The Voice's Destiny
by thekeeperofwords
Summary: When Jon realizes he can't handle being the Voice, he must find a replacement. He stumbles across an unusual young boy, and came to understand the the boy's talents will change his life
1. Warren

(a/n: PLEASE r/r! also, I just realized that some of my "tenses" are different. Ah well, life with it)

King Jonathan rubbed his temples and stood up. Recently, he always became exhausted after communing with the Bazhir every night. He assumed that the responsibility of being the King of Tortall _and_ Voice of the Tribes was starting to take its toll. Slowly he stumbled into his study, where Thayet was waiting with tea.

"How did it go tonight, Jon?" She poured him a cup of the red liquid.

He murmured something that she couldn't comprehend and sipped at the hot drink, nodding his thanks. Thayet waited for him to finish the tea before she sat down next to him.

"Jon…Do you think you should consider finding a replacement Voice? I think it would be best for the Bazhir, and you."

He frowned at her, brow creased. Of course he had considered it, but worried that the proud Bazhir may be offended, not knowing his reasoning for abandoning their most revered and holy position.

"That would be difficult," he said hesitantly. "Each voice is granted with the knowledge of knowing who their successor should be, but not until the time has come for them to pass on, as Ali Mukhtab did. For me to find a new Voice right now would mean a great deal of searching, unless the Gods mean for a new Voice to be found." He grinned. "Listen to me! This kind of talk makes me feel old."

Thayet patted his shoulder sympathetically. "I think you can do it, Jon."

He sighed. "I'll have to talk about it with the Bazhir tomorrow…" He cringed at the thought, "…and see that they think."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Jon, Gary, Alanna, and the Lord Provost went for their weekly ride through the city. The usual hustle-and-bustle awaited them: merchants vying to sell their goods, street urchins weaving around people and vendors. Everyone made way for the King and his advisors. Jon and the others nodded their greetings to the people of the city and rode blandly through the dusty streets.

As they came near the Dancing Dove, and young boy ran in front of Gary and Jon, making Gary's mount jerk. Jon calmly steadied his own steed and signaled for his party to stop. With a disarming expression he dismounted and approached the boy. He noticed that the child looked to be about 10 years old, though he was very haggard. He had very dark brown hair, dark hazel eyes, and tanned, dirty skin. The boy also sported dilapidated blue breeches and a tattered sleeveless-shirt.

"Hello, young man. What's your name?" Jon asked warmly. The people looking on started whispering amongst themselves that King Jonathan would talk to a street boy.

The boy glared at Jon, meeting the King's gaze, displaying no intimidation.

"Warren," the boy said stoutly.

"Are your parents around?" Gary called from atop his horse.

"Don't got any," Warren replied.

"Where do you live?" Jon inquired with concern.

"Anywhere," Warren said. His face betrayed none of his emotions.

Jon made a quick decision. "How would you like to come with me back to the palace? My son Roald is about your age, I think." Jon held out a hand to Warren, which the boy promptly shook. Jon lifted Warren onto his saddle and mounted behind him. The group of nobles rode back towards Palace Way, with the cheers of the commoners following them.


	2. A Bazhir Boy

Jon quickly saw to it that Warren was given new clothes, fed, and cared for. He planned to make Warren his squire-of-sorts, until he figured out what to do with the poor orphan.

The evening bell rang 6 times, signaling for all of the nobles to make their way to the Noble Dining Hall. Jon shrugged into a sapphire-blue mantle and knocked on the door connecting his rooms to the guest rooms, in which Warren was sleeping.

"Warren?" He poked his head in and saw the young boy standing in front of the mirror, admiring his off-white, satin tunic and crimson hose.

"Ready, Warren?" Jon asked with a smile.

Warren looked up, expression chary. "Yes, m'lord."`

Jon placed his hand on Warren's shoulder and steered him into the hallway, stopping by the Royal Suite doors where Thayet was waiting. She delicately rested her hand on Jon's free arm. The three of them made their way to the Dining Hall.

When they walked in, the courtiers started buzzing about the dark new boy that had accompanied the monarchs. Jon sat at the head of the Counsel table. Thayet sat on his right, and Warren, after a little coaxing slid into the chair on his left. Jon spent the rest of the meal instructing Warren proper manners at the table. He discovered that the boy was an attentive listener and possessed a keen intellect. Warren's proud hazel eyes showed understanding and willingness to learn, and he proved to be a quick-learner.

As they were getting up to leave, Jonathan asked Warren where he came from.

"South," the boy said bluntly. Jon stared at him, eyes searching. Warren smoothed his dark hair and looked down, his facial features shadowed.

"Where south, Warren?" Jon whispered.

"Th' desert." Warren looked like he wanted to say no more, but he kept talking. "My father was a baz-bazer, um, Bazhir man, and my mum came from up north, by Whitehorn castle. When I was little she said that she met my pa at a place called Persopolis. Now my ma is dead. I never met my pa."

"So you're Bazhir?" Jon said with interest. "Have you ever heard of the Voice of the Tribes?"

"My Ma mentioned it a couple times," the boy said warily.

"Alright." Jon chuckled. "Let's get you to bed."

(a/n: sorry, this chapter wasn't as good…but I wont write anymore till I get…10 reviews!)


	3. Meant to be

That night, as Jon leaned against the hearth, he concluded his uncertainty. 

"Thayet." She was reading across the room. "Warren is the one. I know it. I can feel it."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Jon! He's only ten years old! You must be joking. There's no way young Warren, a parentless street boy, could become the Voice of the Tribes. You have to possess a certain amount of flexibility, responsibility, leadership, and sanity, in great amounts!" She closed her book with a snap, angered that her husband would assume a young boy could take on such a role.

Jonathan sighed. "He possesses those things, and more. He also has a wonderful ability to learn and understand." He looked into the fire, staring at the flames. They grew hungrily, each blaze clamoring to rise above the others. The fire's glow illuminated his face in almost a ghastly sense. Every line and crease made his face appear shadowed and etched.

In the glare Jon started to see an image. The longer he looked, the clearer it became. "Thayet, come here," he whispered, barely moving his lips for fear of disturbing to picture. She hurried forward and peered into the hearth.

"Jon, what has gotten into you? There's nothing there--"

He silenced her with a wave of his hand. As he began to comprehend the image in the fire, he leaned in closer. The light played over his features and the heat threatened to stave him off, but he dared not blink. Jon could see it now, clear as anything.

-The picture in the fire was of Jon and Warren. They both rode into the desert as the sun sank behind the dunes. The tents of the Bloody Hawk tribe were in view. Jon looked over at Warren, and saw the boy draw himself up in the saddle. His dark eyes flashed with pride and importance. Soon, everyone from the tribe was kneeling in the sand before the two riders. Jonathan saw Warren glowing with the magic of the desert. In one low rumble, every Bazhir present hailed them: _"The Voice."_

With the light and Warren's expression, it made the boy look many years older. "_My people_," he replied.-

The image disappeared.

________________________________________________________________________

The next morning Jon introduced Warren to Roald. The prince's sapphire eyes were friendly, Warren's hazel eyes calculating, as they shook hands. Finally Warren smiled.

"Let's play a game," he suggested.

After a little debate, the two young boys settled on a battle game, consisting of there being two "sides." On each team would consist of five boys. If you were tackled by a member of the other team, you were their prisoner. The point of the game was to try and capture the other team's base, which was located on their "side."

"We can each be leaders of the teams," Roald explained. 

They went to Fort Pit, a hideout for the noble boys of the area. Most were about Roald and Warren's age. After they explained the game, all of the boys were eager to play.

"Alright, Warren, pick your first soldier."

Warren looked at the boys, his intelligent eyes resting on each one, judging them. "I pick…Orrek."

The tall blond boy smiled and strode over to Warren's side. Roald picked redheaded Jaklyn. Warren then commenced to choose Gambis, Dylan, and Tylor. Roald chose Reem, Hilis (Gambis's twin brother), and Nells. 

They set up the game in the woods next to Fort Pit. The border between the two sides was a small stream. The only other boundary was where the forest stopped, facing the palace.

Warren brought his team deep into their side. For their base, he chose an outcrop of rocks, surrounded by young saplings. He instructed Tylor to run up their banner; it happened to be Gambis's handkerchief. 

"Alright men," he said seriously. "We have to have a plan. Dylan, you can be the div-div…"

"Diversion?" Orrek interceded.

"Yes, that. Tylor, you're the scout. Me and Gambis and Orrek will charge their base. Ready? Go!"

The five boys streamed out of their base. Dylan immediately ran off towards the stream. Tylor made his way to where the stream bent , and climbed a tree.

"I see it!" he mouthed. "Over that way!" he pointed into a corner of the mock-battlefield, then disappeared into the foliage.

Orrek, Warren, and Gambis waded stealthily across the stream, but were immediately spotted by Reem. Hilis and Nells popped out from behind a tree and charged at Warren's group. Brown-haired Nells launched himself into the air at Gambis. Gambis froze in place, eyes wide, stuck in the middle of the stream.

Orrek jumped forward and knocked Nells down. Nells fell into the stream with a splash, totally immersed in the cold water. Smiling, Orrek placed a foot on his back, claiming him as a prisoner. As Gambis and Warren warded off the enemies, Orrek pulled his prisoner back to their prison.

Hilis and Reem surrounded Warren. Gambis was trying to inch away, intent on finding the base. To their right, Warren heard Jaklyn and Roald pursuing Dylan.

"We've got you now, Warren!" Reem taunted.

Warren feinted an escape to the left, the quickly tackled Reem. Before Hilis had time to react, Warren spun around, and Hilis quickly found himself laying half-in and half-out of the water. A shrill whistle from Warren brought Tylor out of the tree to his aid. A smirking Tylor hauled off the two prisoners as Orrek returned.

"Now," said Orrek, blowing a lock of air out of his eyes, "Just Jaklyn and the Prince."

Warren nodded gravely. Over Orrek's shoulder he saw Dylan approaching them.

"They went back to their fort," Dylan said breathlessly when he was close enough.

"Alright, split up," Warren commanded. "Dylan, you go left. Orrek, right. Tylor," he called to Tylor, who was just walking back, "you go with Dylan." The three nodded agreement.

Warren crawled to a place behind a bush viewing where Tylor said Roald's fort was. He peeked over a branch just in time to see Gambis being hauled off towards prison, a small cut adorning one of his cheeks. Once in place, Warren imitated a Jay's call, indicating a charge. With a cry of victory, the remnants of his team sprang upon Roald and Jaklyn. Their adversary immediately surrendered, bowing down to Warren's superior force. As Tylor clambered up the tree that held Roald's banner and replaced it with their own, no one saw the King slip away from his post by the stream.

________________________________________________________________________

Warren and Roald returned from the woods excursion laughing and out of breath. After they cleaned up, they went to supper together, and Warren sat next to his new friend during the meal. Afterwards, Roald approached his father.

"Father? Can Warren sleep in my room tonight?" He asked hopefully.

"Sorry, Roald. Not tonight. There are some things I need to teach Warren."

With a disappointed glance at the King, Roald bowed and left. Warren, however, stayed.

"What lessons, sir?" he asked quietly.

"Warren, remember when mentioned the Voice of the Tribes?" Warren nodded. "_Those _lessons," explained Jon. "You have to learn the Bazhir laws and customs."


	4. Lessons

Jonathan learned that night that Warren was exceptionally smart, almost unbelievably so. He had an excellent grasp on respect, responsibility, leadership, and reality. Though Warren was slightly skeptical that he could be good at anything (he had explained that people always treated him like garbage, and no one but his Ma ever loved him) he was willing to apply himself to learning the Bazhir laws and customs. Jon came to greatly admire him.

As Jonathan poured tea for himself and Warren, he remembered something.

"Warren? Do you have a Gift? A magical Gift?"

Warren smiled and held out his palm. Quickly, a ball of silver fire grew there. Without a single verbal command or hand movement, the ball rose into the air and dispersed. Jon thought nothing had happened, but suddenly all of the candles in the room went out, then lit again, glowing a bright silver. After several moments they returned to normal.

"How did you learn that?" Jon whispered in awe. It wasn't that Warren had done something remarkably advanced, but Jon was baffled as to how the boy would have learned sorcery.

"I picked it up as I grew," the boy answered with a shrug. "For a while I stayed with Rentil of Tallan" he named a powerful mage in the South "and learned some things."

Jon clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll do just fine."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon and Warren studied for many nights. Finally, although Warren was not finished with his studies, Jon decided that Warren should visit the desert. He approached Gary, who organized his meetings, to see if he had time.

"Sorry, Jon," he said. "But you don't have a spare minute for…" he closed his eyes and moved his lips silently. "About three months."

Jon hung his head in mock-dejection. Warren had to go to the desert, but he had two other friends who had been adopted by the Bazhir. Warren's going wasn't a problem. He just wished he could be there.

A/n: SORRY! I know its short, but I have A HUGE MENTAL BLOCK! I know what I want to happen, but I just cant get it there w/o rushing the story! After 5 reviews I will update again


	5. Alanna and Jon

"Alanna," Jon said to his friend. "I have a little…errand…for you. Actually, it's quite big. "

She glared at him in exasperation. "Since when do I do everything you tell me to, Jon?"

He laughed. "Since the day you came to court." He patted her on the shoulder.

"I can't do…whatever it is that you want me to do, _Highness_." She emphasized his title to show her annoyance. Although she wasn't really angry with him, she had plans. "I'm planning to venture down to Tyra-- I heard there's some nasty stuff down there. Then, I'm going to Port Caynn for the Skills Competition."

Jon stared at his Champion in shock. "You go looking for trouble," he muttered darkly, before opening the door. "Warren!"

The boy trotted in and bowed. His manners had improved drastically from the time Jon brought him in.

"Yes, milord?" Warren asked.

Jon gripped Alanna's shoulder and pulled her off of her chair. "Warren, Alanna is going to take you on a little trip into the desert," the King explained.

Alanna balked. "Jon, I have things to do!" she protested. Finally she gave under his firm glare. "Alright, I suppose it's time I visit the Bloody Hawk anyway, _Voice_."

"Thank you, _Woman who rides like a man_," Jon joke.

Warren smiled at the King. "She called you 'voice'!" he whispered. Jon nodded and ushered him out the door, ordering him to pack.

Once the boy had left the room and Jon had closed the door, he turned to Alanna and firmly placed his hands on her hips, meeting her eyes. "I wasn't kidding about you going looking for trouble," he said softly. "Are you trying to teach me a lesson or something, by getting yourself killed?"

She sighed and met his gaze. "Jon…"

"Fine," Jonathan said resignedly. "You can risk your life _after_ you get back from the desert."

"It's not that I like leaving you guys," Alanna told him. "It's just… Sometimes I don't know what kind of life I'm leading."

Jon raised his eyebrows skeptically. "You have a wonderful life. You are famed everywhere, you have three loving children, and also a husband that--that loves you very much." His voice cracked at the last part. Alanna saw the regret in his eyes.

"Thank you, Jon," she said quietly. He hugged her tightly.

Suddenly, the door burst open. A winded George walked in.

"Alanna, Gary said you would be--" he stopped, seeing his wife in Jon's arms.

"George!" Alanna cried. She nudged Jonathan, who still held her.

"It's not what it seems," Jon hastily amended. "You see, she wanted to go to Tyra, but I wouldn't let her. And then we got sentimental." he cringed at his excuse, it probably even convinced George that they were doing what George was assuming, but it was mostly true.

"Uh-huh," George said numbly. Alanna walked to him.

"George, it's not what you're thinking at all. I don't love Jon. I love you."

"Yeah? Prove it," George rasped.

Alanna glanced furtively at Jon, then leaned forward to kiss George. Jonathan quickly pulled her back.

"She doesn't have to prove anything, George," he snapped. "You should trust her."

George smiled ruefully. "I've missed you," he told Alanna.

"I know, George. I'm sorry but I'm going away again."

George gripped her shoulders tightly, eyes concerned. "Where?" He leaned closer to her. "Alanna, we have had any…_alone time_…in quite a while," he murmured into her ear, trying to shut Jon out of the conversation.

"I'm going to the desert with Warren," she said. "For…"

"Two months," Jon piped in. George glanced at him sharply.

"You're behind this," he accused the King.

"Behind what?!" said Jon, color mounting in his cheeks. "Honestly, George, what has gotten into you today? Yes, I'm 'behind it', and I've been 'behind' almost everywhere she has one since she was my Squire…and lover," he added spitefully. Immediately, he looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

George tightened his grip around Alanna and nodded curtly to Jon. "Tonight, then?" he asked her. "Can I at least spend quality time with you tonight before you go roaming again?" Jon listened to this, trying to hide his scowl.

Alanna once again glanced at Jon before she nodded. "Tonight, George. Now, I'm sorry, but Jon and I still have to discuss some things."

Bitterly George eyed the sword at his wife's waist, then the sword that Jon sported, reminding his that the two in front of him were partners--inseparable. He quickly kissed Alanna and left.

Jon leaned back against the desk. "Well, that's a pity. You're already claimed tonight." He smiled.

Alanna laughed at this. "George…likes to stay involved with me."

"I can tell," Jon said dryly.

"You didn't look very happy," Alanna observed casually.

Jon gave her a look of mock-innocence. This had put them both in an awkward position, but he admitted to himself that he rather enjoyed it. "Well, I didn't like his attitude," he said carefully.

Alanna pushed him lightly. "I'm sure," he scoffed.

He raised his hands in surrender. "Fine! I admit it! _I_ wanted to claim you for tonight."

"Sorry, my Lord," she simpered. "But I'm taken tonight. How about tomorrow night?" They both laughed.

They discussed that Alanna would bring Warren to the Bloody Hawk and get him acquainted with the Bazhir. Then, after about one month, Jon would meet them there and continue Warren's lessons. On the full moon of that month, Warren would take the Ordeal of the Voice.

Finally, as they were both leaving to retire for that night, Jon hugged her. 

"I won't see you for another month," he whined. "At least kiss me goodbye."

She gave him an incredulous look. "You didn't even let me kiss George."

"You didn't want to!" Jon argued.

"Of course I do! Why else would I be leaving you right you to be with him all night?"

As she finished her last word, Jon leaned in and kissed her passionately, catching his Champion off-guard. She gasped, then shook her head with disapproval, though her smile gave away her true feeling.

"Have fun with George!" Jon called to her retreating back. She ignored him.


	6. Riding out

Alanna was tightening the cinch on her saddle when Warren trotted into the stable, lugging the tack for his horse-- a fine stallion, given to him by Jon. Warren had named it Kastriel, but he wouldn't tell anyone why. 

As the boy approached the big, gray stallion, Kastriel pricked his ears forward. Alanna had noted the day before that Warren had a fine hand with horses. He was very talented at many things. She was impressed at how well he worked, shouldering a grown-man's burden all of his life, yet never complaining.

Alanna was startled out of her daze from Darkmoon butting her with his mighty head. She realized that she had been staring at Warren saddling Kastriel. He whispered gently to his mount as he tightened the cinch. He was quite small for his age, yet gave the impression and maturity and strength. Suddenly Alanna laughed out loud, noticing that she was staring at Warren again.

The boy looked at her.

"A problem, Lady Alanna?" he inquired civilly.

She smiled. "No, Warren. I was just thinking about how well you and Kastriel go together. He looks to be quite a handful."

Warren shrugged. "Me'n Kas get along just fine. He's a good boy." 

Alanna surveyed the boy once again, awed by his maturity and feeling of power. She couldn't even place what she was feeling. Certainly respect, but something more. There was something very special about Warren.

Warren squirmed, uncomfortable, under Alanna's stare. His rebelliousness and defiance no longer applied to people he had befriended. Two weeks ago, he would have firmly met her gaze. After two weeks with Jon and his friends, however, he had learned to trust, and had learned that not everyone would hurt him.

"We should get going, Lady Alanna," he muttered. 

She drew a deep breath and gathered up Darkmoon's reins. "I'd just like to stop by and bid goodbye to Jon and Raoul…And George."

Alanna and Warren led their mounts through the cobblestone courtyard. They picketed their horses to a post and walked the rest of the way to the garden. As it happened, Jon, Raoul, George, and Gary were lounging on benches there and talking.

"And here they are," Gary drawled, sprawled under a tree.

"Alanna," George murmured, brushing her hand to his lips. A small smile adorned his face.

Laughing, Raoul pushed George aside. "No hogging her," he joked, and hugged her. "Have a great time."

"Thanks, Raoul." She smiled at him.

Jon didn't move from his spot in the sunlight. Alanna looked at him. The sun's rays made him look even more astonishing than usual. His neat black hair gleamed and his eyes sparkled. He was wearing a white shirt and royal blue breeches.

The King grinned crookedly at his Champion. "Come here, Alanna. I want to talk to you."

George stiffened possessively as Alanna walked towards her friend. Jon looked like he was going to hug her, but George shot him a mean look, and the King refrained.

"Can I talk to you alone?" Jon asked.

Alanna allowed herself to be led around a corner, out of sight of the other men.

"Make sure to get Warren accustomed to the Bazhir and the desert. Get him acquainted with the headsmen. They will probably scorn him for being young. Don't allow any of that. And--"

Alanna placed her hand over his mouth. "Jon, I'm a big girl," she assured him. "I can do this."

They looked into each other's eyes. Alanna sighed longingly.

"Ready?" George whined as he intruded on them.

Alanna nodded and started to turn away, but Jon caught her hand. 

"I'll see you in a month, Alanna." He walked away.

George led his wife back into the garden. Alanna was surprised to see that it was empty.

"Warren went back to the horses, Raoul back to the Own, and Gary back to his scrolls," George explained.

Silence stretched between them. Finally, George thought of what to say.

"Something is missing between us, my Lioness. When you come back, I'll have a big surprise waiting. I'll miss you." He kissed her long and hard. Finally she broke it off.

"I have to go now," she hastily said, and strode briskly away.

She found Warren waiting with the horses. Both mounts were getting restless, pawing at the ground and snorting. Alanna quickly mounted up. Warren sprung onto Kastriel a beat after her.

As they rode out of the lesser gate, Alanna found herself wondering about Warren's past.

"Warren?"

He looked towards her in acknowledgement.

"Is there something more to Kastriel's name than…just a name? Something about your past?"

He stayed silent for long moments. Finally he drew a deep breath and began to talk.


	7. Kastriel

"I was born up in the Whitehorn area. My ma was a northerner. Her name was Linden. We didn't have a lot of money, so we moved a lot. She got jobs as a maid sometimes. I would play with the other boys. After a while people began to be mean to us. They called me Sand Scut and wouldn't give my Ma work. I was about five then.

"She would tell me that we were going to go back to Kastriel. She said that I was born in the desert. I think Kastriel was my Pa, but she never told me. That's when she died. The people there wouldn't give me a home a'cos I looked like a desert boy. I was living closer to Fief Meron, then. That's when Rentil of Tallan found me. He taught me some sorcery. He looked into the fire, too. Every night he did. And sometimes he put my hand in the fire, but it didn't hurt. That's when he told me things.

"Almost every time, he said that Kastriel would find me. Once he said that I had a great destiny. But while I was there, Kastriel never found me. I asked Master Rentil if Kastriel was my Pa, but he wouldn't tell me. So instead, Kastriel became my dream. Many nights, I would dream about a man on a horse, and a blue fire rising high above my head. I don't know if it was Kastriel or not, but I don't like waiting for him to find me. I want to find him.

"When I was about seven years old, I left Rentil of Tallan. He told me that if I was going to leave, I should make sure Kastriel found me. I was traveling for a while when a man found me. He was on a horse. He said his name was…Halef. He called me Kastriel. I thought he was Kastriel, and that I had found the man who would save me. I thought I had found my dream. But he said he came from the desert. I didn't want to go to the desert, because people made fun of me.

"The man named Halef left. Then, a man named Inar found me. He said that I could be powerful, if I went with him. He said that I had a very strong gift. I told him that Rentil said so, too. I asked him if he knew Kastriel. He said if I went with him, we could find Kastriel. That night, I had a dream that the man was evil. I ran away and used my magic to hide.

"Finally, I came to Corus. I lived there for a while. Soon, I became mad. I couldn't find Kastriel. I was having many dreams, that a man on a black horse, a man with black hair and blue eyes, would find me. When I saw him the day you guys found me, I thought he was Kastriel, because he was on a horse, and was in my dream. That's why I stopped you.

"The night before King Jon gave me my horse, I had another dream. This time, it was of you and me riding into the desert. I was riding this horse. As we got closer, we saw the man on the horse. I ad finally found Kastriel. That's why I named my horse Kastriel. I think I will finally find the man in my dreams."


	8. Desert

Alanna was speechless. She felt very sorry for Warren about his past. For some reason, however, she felt that he didn't want sympathy, and didn't try to comfort him. Instead, she talked about sorcery.

"You know, Warren, tonight I could look in the fire and try to see who Kastriel is."

The boy looked at her, astonished. "You would do that?" his face lit up. Immediately after, he looked crestfallen. "I should really find him on my own."

Alanna nodded understandingly. "Well, I could contact Halef Seif, and ask him about the time you met him."

He stared at her in disbelief. "_You_ know Halef? How?"

She laughed. "We are very good friends, from when I lived in the desert. I never met a man named Kastriel, though. Will you show me some of your sorcery?"

Warren smiled to cover up his dejected look, and lifted his hands, guiding Kastriel with his knees.

Alanna heard nothing, but suddenly a huge crack in the ground appeared in their left, engulfing a tree and a bush. It then closed immediately. They showed each other several other reaches of their magic before they retired for the night.

The next day dawned bright and hot. The sun beat down on the two riders as they approached the vast stretches of sand and dunes that was the Bazhir desert. As the sun set, casting red light over the scene in front of them, Alanna and Warren could see the tents of the Bloody Hawk. They also could see a man on a horse in the distance.


	9. Dream fulfilled

Warren gasped at the sight in front of him. His stallion picked up on his excitement and started prancing anxiously. Warren whispered something into his ear, and then the horse and boy took off, sand flying from beneath Kastriel's hooves.

Alanna bumped Darkmoon with her heels to catch up to the boy, but he was too far ahead. She pursued him, laughing, but worried at the same time. The Bazhir weren't very hospitable to strangers with unknown intents.

Wind whistling past her ears and her copper hair flowing behind her, Alanna crouched close to Darkmoon's mane, goading him to go faster. She passed the tents of the Bloody Hawk, noting that Warren was still racing after the man on the horse, barely visible at that distance.

Someone in the village spotted her and realized who she was. The Bazhir man shouted something to their tribes-people. Soon most of the tribe had cumulated in the area in front of the village, cheering at the return of the Woman who rides like a man. Several of the men hopped onto their horses and followed her.

A quick glance over her shoulder told Alanna that Halef Seif was one of those behind her.

"Halef!" she called, before urging Darkmoon to his greatest speed. 

Miraculously, the headman caught up with her, staying at her side as the two galloped across the sand. At long last, Alanna started to gain on Warren. Suddenly, he started to glow a bright silver. Heat lightning lashed through the sky, illuminating the sand in a ghastly sense.

"Warren!" Alanna yelled. The boy had reined Kastriel to a stop, and was, by all appearances, conversing with the man on the horse. Warren raised his hands, magic lancing from his fingertips. A brilliant flash blinded Alanna momentarily, and when her vision cleared, Warren was riding towards her. The man on the horse was nowhere in sight.

"Warren, what is going on?" Alanna demanded.

The boy shrugged. "This is exactly how I imagined it in my dream. When I saw the man, I knew it was him. I found him Alanna!"

"Kastriel?" she whispered. "Well? What did he say?"

"He told me that I had finally found my place. He said that my destiny would be fulfilled, and that I belong here. I would be safe and happy," said Warren.

"Kastriel? The Protector of those in need? But, he is but a myth!" said an awed Halef.

"Some believe in him, and follow his ways," argued Hakim.

Alanna ignored them. "And now you're satisfied? Was it worth it?" she asked Warren.

The boy nodded. "I finally found my place."

(A/n: I know, the chapters r getting short, but I'm pressed on time. AND the story isn't over! The main action is still to come. PLEASE review!)


	10. A new Voice

(A/n: to clarify: Kastriel (not the horse) was a legend of a man who protects people in need, known only to the Bazhir. Most don't believe in him, but some, (Like Warren's mom) do. As it turned out, he was real, and had been helping warren. Now r/r!)

Alanna and Warren soon drifted into the schedule of the Bloody Hawk. They would ride and hunt with the young men, and practice sorcery and talk with the headman. Warren really liked desert life. He got on well with all of the Bazhir: Old and young, man and woman. Though some were wary of the young boy who would become their Voice, they were courteous all the same.

(A/n: I know, I'm rushing it)

About one month later, Jonathan and Myles came south. Alanna was out riding with Warren when she saw the cloud of dust that indicated visitors. Assuming it was Jon, she signaled Warren to follow her. They soon caught up with Jon and Myles.

"Jon! Myles!" yelled Alanna as she got close to her friends.

They smiled and called back. The group rode the rest of the way to the village, where some of the boys cared for their horses. As soon as he had dismounted, Myles hugged his daughter. They exchanged news as Jon and Warren talked. Finally, Myles announced that he needed to wash up.

For a moment Jon looked her over. In one step he had swept her off her feet and twirled her around. When her finally let her down, they also exchanged news, and talked of Warren's education. As the sun set, they went off to their **_OWN _**tents.

One week into Jon's stay, another visitor showed up. This time it was George. Alanna was delighted and put-out at the same time to see him. Although she loved him, he had the nasty habit of turning-up at all the wrong moments.

Immediately upon seeing her George leapt off his horse and kissed Alanna. They talked for a long time and sat by each other during the meal. When night came, they settled down next to each other. 

"Alanna?" George whispered.

"Hm?"

"Will you come back to the Swoop with me tomorrow? I have that surprise, as promised."

Alanna frowned. "George, I had wanted to stay here for the Ordeal. Jon and Warren need my support."

George pulled her towards him. "So do I, Alanna. Didn't you notice that we're never together anymore?"

She sighed resignedly. "Alright, George. I'll come home, I guess." Inside she was thinking:_ I told him before we were betrothed that I wouldn't stop roaming. Now he wants me to miss this important event for Warren and Jon?_

The next morning Jon was very unhappy to learn that Alanna would be leaving. So was Warren. Both of them wore frowns as they saw Alanna and George off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The couple traveled for three days to get to Pirates Swoop. Anxiously George noted the frown she wore, hoping he could make her smile. As the days passed, she began to talk less and brood more. By the time they reached the Swoop, she had made it clear that her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Just close your eyes," George insisted as he led her inside. She obeyed reluctantly. She had never liked surprises.

Once inside, George removed his hand from her eyes and bowed with a flourish. Five musicians stood waiting, and a table had been set up, light with candles, and set with elegant dining ware and wonderful food.

"May I have this dance?" George murmured, offering his arm.

The musicians struck-up a waltz, and George and Alanna danced. They danced for several songs before sitting down to eat. By the end of the night, Alanna was exhausted. She thanked George for the "wonderful" surprise and went to bed. George, of course, followed.

The Knight fell asleep immediately. She tossed and turned in her blankets, moaning, living through terrible dreams. Finally she sat up with a bolt having awakened herself with the cry of "JON!"

This went on for several nights. Eventually, George was awakened by her screaming about Jon. 

"Alanna!" He was shaking her, but she didn't respond. "ALANNA!"

She turned to him, pale. "Jon? I need to see Jon."

George looked away dejectedly. "What is it, Lass? What did I do wrong?"

"Oh, no, George! It's not you! It's just…Oh Goddess! Now I remember! Curse it, how could we have forgotten?!"

"We?" George asked meekly.

"Yes, Me and Jon. How could I forget? I'm sorry, George, I have to go."

George watched her quickly leave, wide-eyed, and completely confused.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She rode as hard and fast as she could. By the time she reached the outskirts of the desert, then sun was about to sink. It was a full moon that night. Warren would become the Voice that night. 

_Then what about Jon?_ she asked herself. _You remember Ali Mukhtab! HE DIED after the ordeal. What will become of Jon?_ "He's not sick, though," said Alanna out loud." She knew it was hopeless. If she didn't reach them in time, Jon would die.

The sun was going down very quickly when she reached the village. As fast as she could, she raced to the peak where the Ordeal had been performed the last time. It was getting dark. 

Suddenly she heard Jon's voice boom: "United with the desert and the people…"

She ran faster. Her leg muscles began to scream in protest. As she passed the Bazhir crowded around, Halef caught her arm.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

She gasped for breath, straining to where Jon was performing the Rite. 

"After--the Ordeal, Jon will…die," said Alanna through gritted teeth.

Halef Seif turned white.

As Jon chanted the last words and Warren repeated, the blue fire blazed over their heads. Jon had already slashed both of their forearms…the switching of the Voice was about to occur…

Using all of her power, Alanna used it to throw Jon into a faint, hoping to help him escape from the magic. By the time the blaze went down, Warren stood tall by the embers. As one, all of the Bazhir knelt and rumbled : _"The Voice."_

Alanna rushed to Jon and sat next to his still body. After several drawn-out moments, he stirred and moaned. Alanna leaned down and kissed his cheek. He opened and eye and smiled wearily. 

"I'm the first Voice to live through the transition, and that's all I get?"

She chuckled wetly and kissed him. After helping him up, they turned towards Warren. The new voice stood with his hands extending into the air. In a bright flash, a ball of silver was shot into the sky and illuminated the whole village, giving enough light for the feast t begin.

(A/n: That's it! Hope you guys liked it, though I do admit, I don't think I did a very good job on the last chapter. C ya)


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